


Pale Blue Heaven

by sportarobbiephan



Category: Hey Arnold!
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family Issues, Unhealthy Relationships, family violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 10:44:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16891083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sportarobbiephan/pseuds/sportarobbiephan
Summary: After getting hurt, Helga turns to Arnold for help.





	Pale Blue Heaven

Helga lies awake in bed, her shoulder-length hair splaying across her tear-stained pillow. She hasn’t had any reason to cry in a few days, and she wonders if she should consider it a victorious moment – or if that would only jinx it.  She’s made it to eighth grade, but her life has only gotten worse by her standards. Arnold, the object of her secret affection and open wrath, has gotten more popular with his baseball stardom and volunteer work. Her best friend Phoebe and his best friend Gerald are dating, marking them as the first official couple among anyone in their inner circle.

 

As such, Helga doesn’t confide much in her best friend anymore. She has a paranoid fear that anything she tells Phoebe will be told to Gerald, and then Arnold would know. Helga now keeps everything private. She no longer keeps a shrine toward the cornflower-headed boy. She instead sticks to her poetry, keeping her books hidden and using her laptop when she goes out. Her heart locket and pink ribbon reside in the locked top drawer of her vanity, being the first two things she grabs every morning. Currently, the time is reaching midnight.

 

Deciding a snack or mindless channel surfing may be the answer to her pointless insomnia, Helga pulls herself from the comfort of her mattress and sneaks into the hallway. Pausing at the top of the staircase, she strains her ears for any sounds coming from around the house. Not hearing a blender whirring or hushed arguments, Helga hops onto the banister and slides down. Her worn-out bunny slippers no longer have much traction, so she’s only stopped by crashing into the back of the couch. She lets out a short huff when she eyes the couch’s inhabitant.

 

“Miriam?” She calls out in a whisper, walking around the couch.

 

When she hears no response, Helga sits on the edge and gently shakes her mother’s arm. The woman in question mumbles something incoherently and shifts her body. The teenager sighs disappointedly and collects the half-drunk frozen margarita left on the coffee table. She takes it to the kitchen, washing it out in the sink.

 

“Getting in trouble again?”

 

Helga yelps quietly, nearly dropping the glass when her father’s disgruntled voice breaks through the silence. After collecting herself, she grabs a dishrag and turns to halfway face him.

 

“Criminy, Bob!” She hisses. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

 

He brushes her off. “You’re too young to get a heart attack, Olga.”

 

“It’s _Helga_ , Bob.” She rolls her eyes, wondering why she bothers to correct him. “And no, not really. You can get a heart attack at just about any age.”

 

“Don’t get smart with me, Young Lady.” Bob’s voice has a bit of an edge to it.

 

Helga is nonplussed. They communicate by hissing and yelling at each other. When she was nine, he still bought strawberries even though she’s allergic and Miriam only used them to make strawberry daiquiris. Helga shrugs and reaches to place the glass in the cupboard. She moves to the refrigerator, but Bob suddenly steps in her way.

 

“C’mon, Bob. I need some snacks.”

 

“What’re you doing up so late, Girl?”

 

“Can’t sleep.”

 

“What’d I say about getting smart? It’s a school night.”

 

“Though I _should_ be getting smart if it’s a _school_ night. And since when do you care about school?”

 

“Go to bed, Olga.”

 

Helga grits her teeth but doesn’t correct him this time. “I will. _After_ I get some snacks.”

 

He doesn’t budge. “Nice try. Why are you _really_ in here? Trying to sneak some more liquor for your mother? Or steal some money for a damn cell phone?”

 

Helga blinks, frown deepening. “First off, _I’m_ the one who suggested she get into the damn rehab that _you_ decided was too expensive.” She jabs him in the chest with her finger. “And secondly, I already bought myself a cell phone over the summer. You’re just pissed that you’ve got to close up your stores, so you can start stocking phones. You’re pissed that you’re not the frickin’ Beeper King anymore and everyone in town knows that Miriam is just a forgetful drunk.”

 

“I’ve had enough of your damn sass, Olga.”

 

“It’s Helga, Bob! Helga! Helga! Hel-ga! Helga G. Pataki! _You_ named me! Why can’t you get it through your thick skull!?”

 

Swiftly, overstepping all previously established boundaries, Bob moves. He doesn’t back away from the fridge, but he instead swings back his arm. The back of his fist connects with his daughter’s jaw with a loud smack. Tears well up in her eyes and Bob’s widen as he realizes what’s just happened. He calls after her, but she’s already grabbed her jacket from the coatrack and run out the front door. It’s a few minutes past midnight, she believes, as she sets her sights on Phoebe’s house.

 

 _What just happened?_ She thinks to herself, halfway on her journey. _He just exploded. That’s not how it’s supposed to go. He blames me for something and calls me Olga. I correct him and yell at him. He yells back and sends me to my room. I don’t go and tell him why he’s yelling, and then something interrupts us._ She touches the soft spot where she’d been struck, wincing at the pain. _I guess something did interrupt our arguing._

Through her inner monologue, Helga takes several detours that she knows by heart. Some small stores leave their back entrances unlocked, so she can move through the buildings and climb over the fences. By the time she reaches Gerald’s Field, she realizes Phoebe is in Kentucky for the week. Her subconscious has brought her to Arnold’s house, replacing Phoebe’s house as a safe point. A truck suddenly speeds by, soaking Helga in muddy water from a puddle.

 

She looks down at her customized Ol’ Betsy tank top and pastel blue pajama bottoms beneath her jacket that she’d been wearing when she left the house. A fresh wave of tears overflow and she makes no move to wipe them away. She skips the stoop leading into Sunset Arms and instead pulls on a retracting ladder and ascends the boarding house’s fire escape. She scales the metallic landscape with ease, arriving at the glass roof in little to no time. She searches the room, vaguely aware that she’s quit sobbing. Arnold soon walks into his bedroom in his red classic matching plaid pajamas. He isn’t wearing any shoes or his hat, and he’s brushing his teeth.

 

Before she can allow herself to bow out of a sure to be an awkward situation, Helga lowers herself to the unlocked window directly above Arnold’s headboard. She drops out on her back, rolling onto the floor due to momentum. She scowls in pain, biting her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, so as not to draw attention to the bruise growing on her cheek. Instead, she keeps her face etched into the carpet, distinctly grateful her classmate doesn’t have hardwood flooring. She hears his surprised intake, slightly muffled by the foam in his mouth.

 

“H-Helga!? Why are you here? In-in my room?”

 

 _Smooth, Arnold…_ Helga thinks absentmindedly before responding in what she hopes is a friendly tone of voice. Instead, it comes out somber and raspy. “Hey, Football Head.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comment and let me know if I should continue this.


End file.
